‘Friendship’ review: Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd go head-to-head in bromance gone sour

Dir/scr: Andrew DeYoung. US. 2024. 100mins.

When awkward family man Craig (Tim Robinson) strikes up a friendship with Austin (Paul Rudd), the new guy on his suburban block, he gets a renewed sense of purpose – until his bizarre behaviour alienates his new pal and causes his life to unravel quickly. Part cringe-comedy, part diagnostic study of the modern pandemic of male loneliness, Friendship has several inspired moments, and strong performances from Robinson and Rudd. Ultimately, however, its determination to straddle both camps means it stretches itself rather too thin.

Audience tolerances may vary

The feature debut of writer/director Andrew DeYoung, who has previously made short films and directed/co-wrote TV comedy special Would It Kill You To Laugh (2022), Friendship is built entirely around star Robinson’s brand of awkward, near-the-knuckle comedy. A former writer/cast member on Saturday Night Live and the creator of Netflix sketch show I Think You Should Leave, Robinson has plenty of dedicated fans who have supported the film through a festival run and A24’s May release in the US, where it took $16m at the box office. The presence of Rudd could also help the film’s prospects in the UK, where it releases through Paramount on July 18, although it is likely to make the strongest impact on streaming, buoyed by word of mouth.

Craig is first introduced at a support group with his wife Tami (Kate Mara), who is in remission from cancer. His tone-deaf, self-centred response to her heartfelt outpouring of emotion gives an immediate indication of his character; Tami’s silence and embarrassed half-smile a hint as to their dynamic. As the film progresses, it will become increasingly difficult to understand why Tami and Craig have stayed together for so long – even if Robinson does, initially at least, keep hold of the intense vulnerability and low self-esteem that lurk beneath Craig’s personality quirks.

When Craig returns a misdelivered package to his new neighbour Austin, he is immediately taken with this relaxed, smooth-talking man. Indeed, Austin turns out to be something of a manic pixie middle-ager – he is a weatherman for the local TV news, he plays in a rock band, he collects historical artefacts. And it can be no accident that, with his thick hair and moustache, Austin also looks exactly like Brian Fantana, the smooth local news reporter Rudd played in the Anchorman films. At times, Friendship could be seen to be satirising the macho-bro energy of that film, and others like it.

Craig is smitten, and the pair strike up a friendship forged by a nighttime adventure in the local sewer system – yes, really. It is not long, however, before an evening hanging out with Austin and his friends takes an unfortunate turn, and Austin kindly but firmly breaks off the friendship. This is enough to send Craig down a psychological rabbit hole, his attempts to win back Austin’s affections growing increasingly desperate. With no other friendships in his life, repairing this broken bond becomes the source of his hyper-focus. If he could just find a way to be buddies with Austin, he would, he reasons, finally find some acceptance.

On the surface, Craig is Mr Average. Dressed head to toe in beige, he holds down a faceless job that pays the bills and lives in a carbon copy street in an unidentified area – the only clue we get is the postal address of ‘Clovis, USA’, real towns in both California and New Mexico. The notion is that this failure to connect, this everyday isolation, is happening to men everywhere and, left unchecked, even the most ordinary guy can be sidelined as a ‘lone wolf’ (a moniker Craig bestows on himself more than once).

Craig’s behaviour does not immediately set off alarm bells. Robinson plays him as someone unable to follow normal social cues – identifiable and irritating rather than menacing. Indeed, some of his strike-outs are uncomfortably funny: smashing through a plate glass door he believed was closed, his many attempts to match Austin’s enviable brand of cool (which is also not quite as it seems). Friendship does, however, spend a long time simply watching Craig be childish and annoying, and audience tolerances may vary.

Yet as Craig spirals, it is easy to see how this type of alienation can be a slippery slope to something far worse. Throughout, a well-chosen soundtrack and abrupt, impactful editing from Sophie Corra all add to the impression of a seemingly unassuming man living almost permanently on the brink.